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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30118824">Sick 'n Tired</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wickedminds/pseuds/Wickedminds'>Wickedminds</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Daredevil (TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Caring Frank Castle, Human Disaster Matt Murdock, Hurt Matt Murdock, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Sick Matt Murdock, Sickfic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 11:40:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,810</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30118824</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wickedminds/pseuds/Wickedminds</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Matt's sick. Like, really sick. But he's Matt so he still tries to go out as daredevil. Frank finds him and benches him.</p><p>(or, Frank takes care of sick Matt)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Frank Castle &amp; Matt Murdock, Frank Castle/Matt Murdock, Matt Murdock &amp; Franklin "Foggy" Nelson, Matt Murdock &amp; Karen Page</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>87</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was Matt's favorite time of the year. The almost winter, not quite fall cusp. It was pleasant, he could smell the changing of the seasons with every day. A change of pace from the harsher seasons. The brisk morning air didn't sting like in the heart of the winter, and the afternoons didn't threaten to cook him alive like in the middle of summer. And, God, not the mention the blissful absence of pollen in the air that made spring an absolute nightmare.</p>
<p>
That particular absence made an otherwise normal action an inidcator of the beginning of the end for Matthew Murdock. While sitting in his adequately sized office, running his fingers delicately over some new case information, it happened. A sneeze. Followed by not one, but two more.
</p>
<p>
"Bless you!" he heard Foggy yell from the other side of their small firm, the voice echoing through the stark space. He hadn't needed to yell, even without Matt's heightened senses, the walls were so thin that anyone could hear a whisper from the furthest corner of the room. Matt just sat there, his unfocused eyes wider than normal.
</p>
<p>
"No, no, no, no, no," he muttered to himself.
</p>
<p>
"What's that, buddy?" Foggy said, striding over to Matt's office, leaning against the chipped door frame casually. "Those were some pretty hefty sneezes. Getting a cold?"
</p>
<p>
"Hope not. THat's the last thing I need right now," Matt responded, an edge in his voice. Had he always sounded this nasal? It dawned on his that his normal hot-running self was actually freezing. "Hey, is it-- is it cold in here to you?"
</p>
<p>
"No, I actually had to take my jacket off."
</p>
<p>
Matt groaned, "No.."
</p>
<p>
Suddenly the front door swung open, startling the two making Matt wonder why the hell he of all people got startles. Why hadn't he sensed it before? He didn't have much time to ponder the question as Karen walked in, a smile spreading on her face when she saw GOggy and Matt. "Good morning!" she chirped, setting down her purse on her desk and joining Foggy in the now crowded door frame. She finally got a good look at-- "Jeez, Matt, you look awful."
</p>
<p>
"Morning to you, too, Karen," he smiled.
</p>
<p>
"No I-- I didn't mean--" she stumbled before Matt interrupted.
</p>
<p>
"I know what you meant," he laughed, it was always a delight to be in the presence of Karen Page.
</p>
<p>
"It's just that you look like you got hit with a sweaty, muscus-y, uhh, disgusting truck," Foggy replied, saying what Karen didn't have the heart to.
</p>
<p>
"I'm sweating?" Matt asked, mostly to himself. How could he not have noticed that? THis is bad.
</p>
<p>
"Matt," Karen spoke tenderly, her hands fiddling with themselves. Although Matt couldn't see it, he could sense the genuine worry that was wrapped around every word she said, "Why don't you go home? You're obviously sick, you should get some rest."
</p>
<p>
"Ha, like telling Matt Murdock to get rest ever works," Goffy laughed, leaving the door frame to pour himself a cup of coffee.
</p>
<p>
"It wouldn't hurt..." Karen persisted.
</p>
<p>
Matt began to gesture a protest but gave up. It was true, after all. Although the work day had just begun, Matt honestly didn't feel up for any more work. He was just tired. And while that never stopped him before, this felt worse; his thinking was slow, his senses were slow, and even on an empty stomach he was beginning to feel nauseous. Sighing heavily, he brought his hand up to his head, aiming to sweep the hair that had onto his forehead back into place. Instead, he could only cringe in disgust as he felt the slick grime of sweat matting it down.
</p>
<p>
"You guys are right," Matt sighed, "I should get home."
</p>
<p>
"I never thought I'd hear those words come out of your mouth," Foggy smiled, "I'll call you a cab," he walked back to his office and picked up the phone.
</p>
<p>
"No, no I can walk," Matt protested, standing up and almost tipping over, catching himself on the side of his desk.
</p>
<p>
"Smooth," Karen said, entering his office and offering assistance that Matt gladly accepted. "How did you get here in the first place?"
</p>
<p>
"I just didn't notice it until now," he said. Perhaps that was a bit hard to believe, but it really was true. The more Matt thought about it, the more he noticed the symptoms in the preceding few days. A headache he passed off as a side effect of a recent fight with a mugger was really a result o his sinuses, his lack of appetite that he thought to be nerves from a case was just nausea from whatever bug he's caught. He'd been so busy that sickness simply didn't register in his mind as a cause.
</p>
<p>
The cab came, leaving Matt alone to enjoy a rather uneventful ride home. Foggy had insisted on paying. The uncomfortable silence was accompanied by an eaually uncomfortable sticky leather seat, making Matt feel worse than he already did. He tried to roll down the window to get some fresh air as the hot, muggy recycled cab air made him want to vomit. The window wouldn't budge, the mechanism broken. Before he had the chance to pray for this death ride to be over, the cab came to a suddent halt. "Here."
</p>
<p>
★──────────★─────────★★──────────★─────────★
</p>
<p>
The crisp wind stung at Matt's nose. He could feel each breath hit the back of his troath, constantly keeping him on the verge of a coughing fit The night was just beginning for the Devil of Hell's Kitchen; he had only been awake for roughly half an hour after waking up from a much needed nap. Matt hadn't made it very far from his apartement, only reaching the roof of the building
</p>
<p>
His face was hot, he could feel it radiating off of him into the cold night where his face was exposed, but also into his very well insulted cowl. A pounding thud in his head with every pulse of his heart meant Matt couldn't get a good sense of his surroundings. And while he had already memorized the rooftops for a square mile around his apartement, he really didn't want to risk taking a wrong step and end up a vigilante pancake. So he sat. With a bit of a grunt from the pain of past fights, particularly the pain from a swift kick to the ribs just a few days ago, he sat at the edge of the rooftop, armor-clad legs dangling precariously. Sweat dripped down the size of his face, leaving a smear as traveled toward his chin. Matt contemplated taking it off, but ultimately decided that it was too risky, especially with his senses dulled. It's too risky to be out here at all in this condition, he thought
</p>
<p>
He berated himself for not paying more attention to his health. It was rare and ephemeral for Matt to dwell on his blindness, but on a night like this, helpless and alone, it was hard to not think about it. The feeling of helplessness brought out the guilt. KNowing what was out there, in the night, made Matt feel even worse. He should be helping someone, hurting someone. Another wave of guilt washed over him, forcing his face to contort into some sort of angry, bitter grimace. Rubbing his raw nose and sniffing harshly, Matt couldn't help but wonder just how beautiful of a sight he sat before. The beauty of the city he swore to protect. He dropped his head.
</p>
<p>
"Hell of a night, eh, Red?"
</p>
<p>
"Frank," Matt's voice was beginning to sound hoarse. He didn't knows exactly where Frank was, just that he was behind him. Which is why Matt nearly jumped off the roof when a sudden hand appeared on his shoulder.
</p>
<p>
"Hey, Red, take it easy," Frank used Matt's shoulder to help lower himself in a sitting position next to Matt. His hand lingered after he was seated, and Matt shifted his head ever so slightly toward Frank. Matt's sense of a smell was brought down to that of a normal person's from his sinuses being clogged, but he could still get a hint of sweat and resdual gunpoder that permeated off of Frank Castle.
</p>
<p>
Now, the two vigilantes weren't necessarily friends. They did what they did any, for the most part, tried to stay out of each other's way. So why on this particular night was Frank perusing about the rooftops of an area Matt is known to be? Was he going to be friendly? Malicious? Was it simple boredom that brought the Punisher to Matthew Murdock's very own rooftop?
</p>
<p>
"What're you doing out here, Red? Shouldn't you be off doing backflips or some shit?" The gravel of Frank's voice snapped Matt back to reality. He noticed that Frank's hand had at some point been removed from his right shoulder.
</p>
<p>
Matt inhaled to answer the question.
</p>
<p>
"I-" The beginning of a sentence that had no planned end was interrupted by a fit of coughs, wet and deep in his chest. He swallowed and focused on not choking on air again.
</p>
<p>
"My God. You're sick."
</p>
<p>
"I'm fine.."
</p>
<p>
"Bullshit you're fine! Jesus, look at you!" Frank gestured at the entirety of Matt.
</p>
<p>
"It's not that bad, seriously."
</p>
<p>
A gust of air pushed by the two causing Matt to shiver. Why was he so damn cold?
</p>
<p>
"That's why you were coughing up lung just now?" rank stands up, his heavy boots fading to the edge of Matt's limited hearing range before returning to his side. "Get uo."
</p>
<p>
"What?"
</p>
<p>
"You heard me. Up. You're taking it in for the night."
</p>
<p>
"Hold on, when did you start making the rules?" A small smirk appeared on the Devil's face. While it was somewhat amusing for Rank to be giving him orders, it did strike a bit of a nerve in Matt that manifested itself in the edge that lined his voice. A warning for Frank not to push it.
</p>
<p>
"Damn it, Red, would you just go home? Get some rest. Save the day some other night. The city'll still be here in the morning," Frank was getting more irritated. Yet there was still a softness in his tone.
</p>
<p>
Unease washed over Matt. He hadn't eaten anything that day yet still felt like he was going to vomit. Maybe Frank was right. It was no use sitting out here in his suit, just waiting to be spotted. Reluctantly, he started to get up. It was difficult, any sudden movement made his body ache and his stomach churn. Matt felt a hand, Frannk's, under his arm trying to help him up.
</p>
<p>
In an instant, Matt became furious. "I can do it myself," he hissed as he shrugged Frank off. In doing so, Matt also lost his balance, his feet teetering over the ledge. Panic shot up his spine as his torso began to fall. Time seemed to slow, an infinite amount of emotions flowed through his mind at once. The cold ripped through him and the suit, giving him the chills. He could feel his breath leave his lips and condensate as soon as it touched the air. There wasn't enough time to reflect on the strange clarity that came with the surge of adrenaline and increased heart rate. And as an image of him on the cold concrete flashed in his mind, all he could think was, fuck.
</p>
<p>
"You can do it yourseld, huh?" The snide comment startled Matt out of his head enough to realize he wasn't dead. What he was too in his own head to realize was that after losing his balance, rank's hand shot out and grabbed him by the arm, keeping him suspended over the edge. Matt's feet were planted firmly on the ledge still, his legs stiff, knees locked. His body stood at an angle a hundred feet above the street down below. Frank's arm was the only think keeping Matt from becoming the image in his head.
</p>
<p>
"You're an asshole," he huffed out in relief.
</p><p>
Frank pulled back, hauling Matt back onto the safety of the rooftop. "An asshole that just saved your life."
</p><p>
The adrenaline that had flooded Matt's system was suddenly rushing out of it. With it, the last of his already deminished energy. Standing took all of his effort, which was why when Frank shoved him down from the ledge, he stumbled before crashing to the ground. When he got there, it took him a moment to realize that he had fallen. And when he did realize it, the ground just felt so damn soft.
</p><p>
"Red?" Frank asked, but to Matt, he sounded far away.
</p><p>
A darkness crept into his world on fire. It seeped deeper, seeming to wrap his whole body away before taking him under.
</p><p>
★──────────★─────────★★──────────★─────────★
</p><p>
"Red?" FRank hadn't ment to catch Matt off guard, so when he heard the thump of a body behind him, he was suprised. Normally Red was so nimble, a shove like that wouldn't even knock him off his balance. He turned around to face the man. When Matt didn't get up, concern set in.
</p><p>
"Hey," Frank's mouth went dry, "Murdock?"
</p><p>
Kneeling next to Matt, Frank quickly pulled off his cowl, and even in this dire scenario couldn't help but chuckle to himself, "A blind ninja in a devil costume, sick."
</p><p>
Any shred of humor drained from the Punisher when he saw what lay under the mask. Aside from Matt being unconscious, what really stood out was how he was drenched in sweat. The plastic red eyes in the mask were fogged up from the humidity trapped inside. The helmet acted as an oven, insulated so well that heat led to heat lead to heat. And all that heat ended up in the head of Matt Murdock. The sweat had completely soaked his hair, traveling down the side of his face and neck. It didn't take a genius to figure out that he has a fever. A bad one.
</p><p>
"Shit," Frank said. In one swift motion, he lifted up Matt bridal style with a grunt. "Heavier than you look, Red."
</p><p>
Matt didn't respond. Obviously, FRank thought. ANother thing that struck him as concerning was how cold the rest of Matt's body fely compared to his head.
</p><p>
Frank realized the cowl was still on the ground, and knew it couldn't be left out in the open to be found by someone. Looking down at his full arms he sighed, grunting to put Matt back down. With a now free hand, he set the mask on top of Matt's stomach and silently prayed that it stayed put before hoisting up the dead weight that Matt was. Maybe that was a ppor choice of words, Frank pondered, but it's damn accurate
</p><p>
The next problem arose as soon as Matt was lifted again. Frantically, Frank looked around the rooftop. 'where am I going to take him?'
</p><p>
He spotted a roof acces door and made his way over toward it. Altough, as he got closer, it didn't look like the building's communal roof acces door, but more like a residential one. Without many options and the clock ticking on how long Matt has been passed out from overheating, Frank kept on until he reached it. He leaned back to put more of Matt's weight on his shoulders and used his now open right hand to turn the handle. At the last second he mentally slapped himself for forgetting it could be locked, but contineud anyway. It turned. Sighing in relief he carefully pushed the door open.
</p><p>
"Hello?" Frank asked the darkness that emanated from the door frame, "Anyone home?"
</p><p>
There was no response. That, coupled with the darkness of the interior, gave him enough reason to believe no one was home. He stopped leaning back and shifted the weight onto his arms again. Stepping inside the apartment and letting his eyes adjust to the darkness, he asked again, "Hello?"
</p><p>
Frank hoped nobody would walk in and see the Punisher with an unmasked Daredevil in his arms, he had no idea what he would do if that were to happen. Matt's face was exposed, his cover would be blown. Not to mention that the police would be called the instant Frank was recognized. This was bad. Really bad. Why did he have to go out tonight.
</p><p>
Frank didn't know wether he was asking himself or chastising Matt. Could be both, was his conclusion. There wasn't as much darkness to adjust to as he thought, a light radiated into the space from outside the large windows that were paneled across from what he now saw: "Fucking stairs."
</p><p>
Nowhere else to go, Frank descended into what he could make out to be an adequately sized apartement. Except a few things were off, he noticed as he grunted his way down each step. The apartment was a mess, there was glass on the floor, not to mention papers and clothes. The couch in the middle of the living room was off center from the coffee table that lay adjacent to it, a chair opposite was knocked over. Whoever lived here has some issues, clearly.
</p><p>
Frank, as gently as he could muster, laid Matt down on the couch. With Matt situated for the time being, Frank shuffled his way into the open kitchen. "Alright, Red, we're gonna cool you down, yeah?" he said over his shoulder. Not that Matt was listening. "Just need to get some ice.."
</p><p>
OPening the freezer was a let down. It was practically empty except for some freezer burned waffles and a frozen beer bottle. Damn.
</p><p>
Frank grabbed the two object and closed the freezer door. "Okey, I'm going to the run to the corner store and get some ice. What I need you to do," he said putting the beer bottle under Matt's neck and the waffles on his forehead, "is not die just yet. 'Kay?"
</p><p>
Nothing.
</p><p>
"Good talk."
</p><p>
Just as he's about to leave he looks around the studio apartment again, a flutter of white on the kitchen counter caught his attention. Paper. With...bumps on it? He approached the stack of paper and started to lip through the pages. Bumps. Braille.
</p><p>
"You're fuckin' kidding me," Frank huffs, looking back at the couch behind him. "This your place Red?" He sauntered over to where Matt was, smugly checking out the place with much more intent than before. He rubbed the back of his tightly cut head, squinting his eyes as they passed over the brightly lit billboard that lay just outside Matt's apartment. A glint of light caught his attention, a bead of sweat dripping of the slick mess of Matt's hair, still pushed down from being in a helmet. He noticed the man under the head of hair was shivering. FRank grimaced. There's gonna be a lot more cold where that ame from.
</p><p>
With a light tap on Matt's shoulder and a click of the tongue, Frank left the apartment through the front door, "Hang in there Murdock"</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry it took so long, I thought i had saved it as a draft but apparently not and my ADHD self couldn't focus on rewriting it woops. so yeh that sucks fml. But I hope ya'll enjoy it.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> Cold</em>
</p><p>
Cold.
</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>
Cold, cold, cold, cold, </p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>
"Cold!" Matt shot up like a bullet, teeth chattering, breathing heavily, and absolutely <em>cold<em>. The word wouldn't leave his mind, as if his brain kept a running alert until it could figure out what was going on.
</em></em>
</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em>
"Easy, Red" the gruff voice was like a knife that cut through the air, radiating a source of clarity that Matt hung onto long enough to pull him back to reality. There were no complex thoughts, just what he was feeling in the moment of his current predicament. The predicament that found him in his bathtub soaking in an ice bath. The pain finally set in, the ice water freezing him to the core, which overrode any and all thoughts other than to get himself out.
</em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em>
"Frank," he didn't know why he said it, he wasn't trying to get the guy's attention. It had slipped out as his brain put the voice and identity together. Matt placed a hand on either side of the tub and began to rise from the water. He could feel the drag of clothes, a plain tee shirt and some sweats that he didn't remember having on, pulling down on him as the water tried to follow the pull of gravity to the ground. His legs felt like tree trunks, heavy and thick, difficult to move. Standing on them was even more difficult, his balance fragile.
</em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em>
"I got you," one hand was placed on his right shoulder, another on the back of his left arm. A gentle lifting pressure told him he was being helped our of the tub. To weak to protest, he complied, allowing assistance. Once out, Matt just stood there, arms crossed and shivering. While he knew that he should be doing something to help himself, he couldn't figure out where to begin.
</em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em>
"Get out of those wet clothes, there are dry ones on the counter to the left of the sink. I'll be outqide the bathroom door, I don't need to see you naked," The click of a door signaled to Matt that he was alone in the bathroom. His bathroom. <em> How did we end up back here? </em></em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em>
There was no time to ponder as a draft gave him the chills and forced Frank's instructions back to the front of his mind. Slower than he wanted to, but as fast as he could muster, Matt carefully removed his shirt, pants and underwear. They fell to the stone floor with a wet flop, the sound echoing in the fairy stark room. As a quick as he could manage, he put the clothes left out for him on, not bothering to find out what exactly he was wearing, for as soon as he picked up the shirt, a warmth radiated into his frozen body They had been in the dryer. There were no socks in the given ensemble, so once he was dressed and finished relishing in the warm garments, he exited the bathroom and entered his adjacent bedroom, making a beeline for one of his dresser drawers.
</em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em>
"What are you doing?" he heard Frank ask.
</em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em>
"Hold on," Matt mumbled, not really caring if he was heard or not. He grabbed what he needed and sat and the unmade bed. Water still dripped off his hair and onto his face. It rolled down his cheeks and left water marks as thet made contact with his silk sheets. As he bent over to put on his fluffy socks, making sure to tuck the legs of his sweatpants into them, he finally felt enough mental clarity to properly think. Things started to fit togheter again, make sense. There was still a bit of a haze, but it was less than before.
</em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em>
Before, on the rooftop. They were on the rooftop. Frank told him to go home. Anger. Why was he angry? Then, falling. Or, rather, not falling. Frank saved him. Then...the cold.
</em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em>
"What...what happened?" Matt finally spoke. His voice was still hoarse.
</em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em>
"You passed out," Frank's normally hoarsh voice was softer now, this wasn't the hard Punisher who could kill without a flinch. This was different. Genuine. Matt liked it. Luckily for hom, Frank kept talking, "You collapsed on the roof after you almost fell off of it like a dumbass."
</em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em>
Mattc ould hear the smile in his voice and couldn't help but smirk himself, "Thanks for that"
</em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em>
"Yeah, well, you should be thankin' my back for haulin' you in here," Frank contineud.
</em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em>
"About that...How did you find my place? You've never been here before."
</em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em>
"Sheer luck. You should really lock that roof acces door of yours, Red. Wouldn't want just anyone to come in here."
</em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em>
"Well, in this case I'm glad it wasn't," Matt smiled and vaguely turned his head towards Frank who was still standing by the bathroom door. It was times like this that %att wondered where his eyes fell. How close was his gaze to Frank's feet, was he just staring dumbly at the concrete floor? WHile his eyes couldn't see, they were still something he tried to be conscious of. Matt became acutely aware that he didn't have his glasses on, which in turn made him acutely aware of the vulnerable position he was in. In typical Murdock fashion, Matt steeled himself, <em> This is the Punisher, in my home, and I am incapacitated. Not the most ideal situation to be in. <em> He attempted to clear his thorat, instead inciting a heavy cough. A sign that the muscus was making itself known and expressing that it won't go down without a fight.
</em></em></em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em>
"You alright in there?" the bed shifted beside Matt, Frank's weight causing a depression in the mattress. His posture was relaxed as opposed to the stiffness of Matt's. "You're pretty damn sick. Don't want you passing out on me again."
</em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em>
Matt could feel the warmth that radiated off the man next to him, hear the steadiness of his breath, how relaxed he was sitting next to him. Matt could melt into it, believe there was nothing strange about the two of them being in such close proximity. That there was someone there for him. But he couldn't allow for that.
</em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em>
"You don't have to do this," Matt responded, getting up from the bed and exiting his room.
</em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em>
"Do what?" Frank trqiled slowly, lingering by the bedroom door while Matt contineud to the kitchen table, grabbing his glasses.
</em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em>
"Help me," He put them on, causing any insight into the man without fear to become hidden once again.
</em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em>
Frank clicked his tongue in response and crossed his arms tighlty over his chest. "I save your life, and this is the thanks I get?"
</em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em>
"I didn't ask you to save me," Matt's voice was low, strained.
</em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em>
"Is-Is that why you got mad out there, Red? Why you almost got yourself killed?"
</em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em></em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em>
Matt remained silent.
</em></em></em></p><p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em>
"Because you think you don't need help? Or that you odn't diserve it? Is that it? God you really are as dumb as I thought."
</em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em>
Matt's brow furrowed. "I...I don't, that's no what I..."
</em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em>
"You put yourself in these positions, yeah? Ones where you need savind. Then you bitch about getting saved from them. All because, what? You didn't ask to be saved? That's a bunch of bullshit and you know it."
</em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em>
The following silence was thick, almost palpable. It constrained Matt's throat, forbidding his mind to form sentences and threatening to choke him outright. His fists were clenched, knuckles white.
</em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em>
Frank must have noticed, "What're you gonna do? Hit me? You can barely keep yourself upright, you really wanna go head to head with the Punisher?" he scoffed.
</em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em>
"Just leave," Matt forced out, releasing his fists. His voice was tired, mirroring exactly how he felt. "I'm not gonna fight you."
</em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em>
Leaving the spot he was standing at by the kitchen tavle, and feeling as if he left a dent in the floor from how heavy his body felt, he walked past FRank back into his bedroom and crawled into his bed. Matt positioned himself in his silk sheets so that his back was facing Frank. He could sense the utter disbelief the other man was experiencing from the double take and the uncertainty of his next moved. He could feel the shift in Frank's breathing pattern as if he were going to say something. For a minute, no words came. All the while, Frank's temperature crept up.
</em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em>
Anger, Matt thought. It was an automatic connection, thanks to the years of practice. He was too tired to actually care about the feelings of the unwanted man in his apartment.
</em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em>
"Are you always liek this?" Frank almost yelled before turning on his heel and storming out of the apartment. Before he slammed the door behind him, Matt caught a "Fuckin' Chirst", muttered under his breath.
</em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em>
With nothing but sickness induced apathy to keep him company, Matt quickly fell into a deep sleep.
</em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>
      
    </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em>
★──────────★─────────★★──────────★─────────★
</em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>
      
    </em>
  </em>
</p><p>He woke to the lull of the ocean. That's what it felt like, at least. Disorientation is fun for no one, especially not for blind guys prone to being knocked unconscious for vigilante reasons. So, reasonably, Matt frantically sat up in his bed, taking in his surroundings. He first noticed his sheets. Silk. His surroundings smelled like his home, but the continuous, nauseating lull made him think twice.</p><p>
Getting out of bed made matters worse, his balance as off and his head felt like a block of concrete atop his shoulders. Neither of these things helped his stomach, stomach Matt realized a second too late.
</p><p>
"Oh no," he softly whispered out as he fumbled his way to hos bathroom, one hand covering his mouth and the other reaching out to make sure he didn't accidentally bump into anything. His body ebjected and showed its disapproval in the form of an unmistakable lurch in his gut. He could feel the deep unsettlement burn inside his esophagus and begin to fill his mouth. In the haste of rapid decision making, he decided a mouth full of vomit was more undesirable than a handful of it, and allowed for the hot sickness to create a new problem down his chin and onto the floor. Upon reaching reaching the toilet, Matt sat down in front of the bowl, letting whatever was left in his stomach to reach a proper location rather than leave any further mess in his now overwhelmingly acidic bathroom. For a while, he just sat there, his head still somehwat dizzy and stomach still somehwat queasy, despite him being sure there was noting left inside him to even be queasy.
</p><p>
Now feeling even more miserable than he thought possible, Matt sat cradling the bowl, eyes only half open. he felt the cold of the concrete floor seep through his weatpants and turn his body to ice once again. 'I've had enough of cold' he thought to himself, still unwilling to move from his position. The smell around him was beginning to become unbearable, it stung at his noce and only reinforced the unwellness his whole body reeked of.
</p><p>
A bath would be nice, he tossed the idea around in his head, raising his eyebrows in subtle desire. he turned towards his bathtub, and although it was less than two feet from where he sat, it seemed to Matt like it were across the globe. he reached out and grabbed the edge of the tub and, with a lot of mental preparation and a shitload more physical effort, began to inch himself toward it.
</p><p>
Grunting with every, Matt finally sat himself down on the tub's edge and reached for the metal handle that turned on the faucet. In a half-moment of clarity, he remembered to lift up the valve that separates the shower faucet from the tub's, ensuring the water flows into the tub from the basin and not from the shower head into his face. Twisting the handle to the position he had memorized as the perfect temperature, the sick husk of Matt Murdock se the plug in the drain and waited for the water to rise. The humidity of the steam coming off of the warmth in the tub wrapped itself around Matt, relaxing him before he even got into the bath. As the water climbed, he realized that he was still dressed. Without getting up, he slid off his socks and sweats, then removed his shirt with one arm. His other arm remained dangled in the tub, and once he felt the water lap at his fingertips, he shut off the water and listened to it settle. Finally, Matt removed his underwear and descended himself into the case of warmth that he wished he never had to leave.
</p><p>
The waves of the tub consumed him up to the base of his neck. He had to bend his legs slightly to fit his whole body in, so his knees stuck out slightly. The tips of his toes burned, the water wrapping them in flames and sending a not so unpleasant feeling of pain shooting up his feet only to get lost among the heat of water on the skin encasing his calves. His arms were folded over his chest, hands loosely gripping at his biceps and slowly tracing themselved across the length of his arms, occasionally massaging the warm water into his chest. He felt his whole body relax and seep into a state of lethargy that he couldn't recognize if he tried.
</p><p>
The wavy sea of copper-tinted brown that was Matt's hair was still dry, as was the rest of his face; only the hairs that dared to res on his neck managed to slip under the water and tickle at his skin as it danced thorugh the water.And although he had never been particularly fond of water before, pools typically drowning his senses ad debilitating him as harshly as his illness has, and showers of water typically piercing his eardrums at every drop that touched his skin with what felt like the force of a bomb, the feeling that this simple bath gave him made a seriously compelling case to just sink all the way into the slippery abyss. His judgement skills impaired, Matt let the peacefulness make up his mind for him, allowing the water creep up his neck, overtaking his chin and seeping into the subtle part of his lips. He held his breath as it came for his nose, his closed eyelids feeling the weight of the water gently lap at his lashes, he could feel the way it made its way up his forehead. His hair became heavier the further he sunk, the clarity of every follicle moving alongside the gentle sway of the ocean he lay in was all he could focus on until his entire head was enveloped in the warm embrace of his tub.
</p><p>
contrarily, his knees alongside the tops of his shins and the bottom of his thighs became ecposed, leaving the cold air to sting at them. The only saving grace was the steam that rolled off the surface of the water, rising and tingling at the skin, warming it where the bathroom air had chilled it, only for a breeze to blow the layer of humidity away and for the process to begin again. Matt lay underwater inn the tub longer than he cared to keep track of. He was good at holding his breath, it came in handy more often than he would have thought. And so his body remained remained still, in his perfect equilibrium, curled and half hunched in the tub and completely unaware of the woes of the world that surrounded it.
</p><p>
This was the sight that Frank Castle had walked into.
</p><p>
★──────────★─────────★★──────────★─────────★
</p><p>
Where Frank was going once he stormed out of Matt's apartment, he didn't know. What he did know was that Matt Murdock was the most stubborn and emotionally stunted man he knew. He walked around the block absently, debating going back.
</p><p>
Why the hell did he even care about what happened to Matt? He was a pain in the ass who only evver ruined Frank's punishing. 'No killing, my ass,' Frank thought. It always came back to this with them two. The Punisher killed and Daredevil didn't. Matt couldn't seem to let that go between them. While Frank didn't think that Matt's method of vigilantism was effective, it's not like Frank shoved his methodology down his throat every chance he got. Okey, maybe he had tried to get Matt to kill a couple times, but it never worked. Matt was too stubborn to change his mind about anything.
</p><p>
Frank shouldn't care about Matt, he was a grown adult who could make his own choices and should be capable of taking care of himself. Yet, something inside of Frank still wondered, worried even. It reminded him of his own kids when they would get sick. He would drop everything to take care of them, accommodate their every need, made sure they were comfortable and that they took their medicine. Maria always told him he was going over the top, that it was jsut a common cold, they were fine and that he didn't need to worry so much, but Frank couldn't help it. It was just his nature.
</p><p>
As he walked around, he realized that this nagging feeling in his gut wasn't going to leave him any time soon. He saw how messed up Red was, and how insistent he was about not getting proper medical attention, devil suit or not. Frank couldn't leave him to care for himself, couldn't trust him to. This was the reason why Frank was helping him, he told himself. Matt, while a pain in the ass, was a good vigilante; he helped clean up the streets somewhat, and, to be fair, he came in handy during those rare instances where Frank found himself in over his head. Couldn't have an asset like Red succumb to some flu.
</p><p>
Frank continued walking down the block, passing the entrance to Matt's building that he had circled a couple times by that point. He walked for a while, passing dive bars that were open at this ungodly hour of, Frank checked his phone, 3 am. Not much would be open this late, only the sketchiest of convenience stores. Which, coincidentally, would be perfect for Frank to keep a low profile. It was probably 20 minutes of walking before he stepped inside one, the gritty interior as welcoming as his secluded safehouses. The fluorescent lights washed the whole place in the familiar warped reality feeling that typically accompanied late night convenience store runs.
</p><p>
Frank walked down the few aisles that were there, grabbing every over the counter medicine that would help alleviate any symptoms. He grabbed some microwaveable soups off the shelf, some gatorades, saltine crackers, and tissues. Walking to the checkout counter, he placed all the items down to be scanned.
</p><p>
"Will that be all for you, sir?" the uninterested cashier asked, hardly glancing up at Frank.
</p><p>
Frank did a quick sweep of the store, "Actually," he said, quickly darting from the counter over to the refrigerated sodas. Coming back, he plopped a 7-up down next to the small pile of supplies and smiled at himself in satisfaction, "That's all."
</p><p>
The walk back to Matt's buidling was uneventful, peaceful even. As peaceful as a walk in the early morning with only the moon light the way can be. He couldn't have been gone for much longer than an hour. Pretty quickly, Frank stood in front of Red's apartment, his hand hovering in hesitance above the door knob. He listened for any sign of Matt. There was no sound, he was probably in the same state as Frank left him, asleep. The silence of the early morning did nothing to ease his mind. Frank sighed, he just needed to make sure that Matt didn't end up killing himself, make sure he got out of the virus-filled woods that so densely grew around the man's immune system.
</p><p>
 Twisting the knob and opening the door, Frank stepped inside. It was dark, not that Frank expected for the lights to be on, but the contrast from the lit hallway caused for it to take a second for his eyes to adjust back to Matt's apartment, even with the billboard lighting up the entire living room. Frank closed the door and made his way to the kitchen. He set the bag of supplies down and emptied them onto the countertop, seperating them into separate piles for medicine, food, and drinks. Before he could go to put the drinks in the fridge, he glanced up at the bed across the open apartment. The sheets and comforter were strewn across the mattress and there wasn't a Matt in sight.
</p><p>
"What the-" Frank started, setting the gatorade in his hand down and making his way to the bedroom. Plenty of concerns crossed his mind, death occuring in about 99% of the scenarios he came up with. Of the not so deadly circumstances Frank could walk in on, Matt was simply going to the bathroom. On the other hand, it's entirely possible that Matt woke up and decided to go back out as Daredevil, this time actually falling off the roof like he almost did earlier. And while Frank really didn't want to walk in on Matt taking a piss, it was the best case scenario he could find himself in.
</p><p>
Frank whipped around the corner of the broken sliding door to Matt's room, to find the bathroom door ajar. He stopped in the door frame and took in everything he was seeing, starting on the fresh vomit that covered the floor and the toilet seat. The smell hit him like a truck, causing him to automatically cover his nose with his shirt and breathe lightly through his mouth.
</p><p>
"Seriously, what the fuck," he muttered, barely noticing the pile of clothes next to the mess on the floor.
</p><p>
He quickly focused on the tub and saw some knees sticking up out of the tub. Frank sighed, at least he wasn't dead.
</p><p>
'Wait a second' Frank thought, realizing the asshole's head was nowhere to be found above the water. Shit.
</p><p>
Trying his best not to step in or slide on the vomit, Frank rushed to the side of the tub, not hesitating for a second to rip Matt's body from the water. He grabbed under Matt's arms, lifting him enough to drag his hips over the ledge, his legs following. Frank's mind immediately went over CPR procedure, but before he could perform it, he was met with the trashing of the body beneath him.
</p><p>
"Wh-what's happening!?" Matt all but yelled. His eyes were frantic, his head tilted, twitched multiple times as he tried to get a reading on his surroundings. His hands pushed Frank's arms from underneath his own, held them by the wrist away from his torso.
</p><p>
"Easy, Red," Frank tried to calm him for the second time that night.
</p><p>
Either Matt didn't notice or didn't care because he curled his legs to press his feet against Frank's body, and kicked out with all his force, using the floor as an added leverage to put behind the kick.
</p><p>
"Matt!" Frank huffed out as he was pushed up and stumbled backward. With a splash and another groan, he fell into the still filled tub. "Shit!"
</p><p>
"F-Frank?" Matt stilled.
</p><p>
"Yeah, it's me! I thought you were drownin' or some shit."
</p><p>
"Oh. Sorry."
</p><p>
More splashes could be heard as Frank got out of the tub. Matt remembered how naked he was and did the best he could to hide himself while still lying on the floor. Frank must have noticed his embarrassment because he spoke again.
</p><p>
"I've seen it all in the marines, Red. And trust me, I ain't lookin."
</p><p>
That didn't stop Matt's face from turning beet red, he could feel the blood rushing into his cheeks. A towel hit him in the face with a wap! and he gratefully used it to make himself decent.
</p><p>
Now that he wasn't worried about the threat of an intruder anymore, Matt slowly got up off the floor. He shook his head a few times to rid his face and hair of any water droplets. As he did so, a feeling crept it's way inside his right ear canal. It contineud in, effectively blocking it up.
</p><p>
"Shit..." Matt muttered to himself.
</p><p>
"What?" Frank said, still next to him in the bathroom.
</p><p>
"I have water in my ears. It's throwing off my senses a bit."
</p><p>
"How bad is it?"
</p><p>
"Manageable. It'll clear eventually, but for now I'm just gonna be a little...less coordinated, I guess," Matt explained.
</p><p>
Frank nodded, not sure if Matt could tell. Neither of them said anything for a moment.
</p><p>
"Oh, shit, you must be soaking wet!" Matt suddenly remembered their encounter from a few minutes ago. Man, he was really not in the clearest headspace. "Let me go find you something to change into," he continued, moving to exit the bathroom. "I know that you're larger than me," he smiled to himself, "so I'll grab the largest clothes I own. Hope they'll fit."
</p><p>
There was silence as he rifled through his drawer. Matt's smile faded absently. Why was he trying to make pleasant conversation with Frank? More importantly, why was Frank back in his apartment?
</p><p>
"I don't blame you," Frank's voice broke the silence.
</p><p>
Matt coughed before responding, "Huh?"
</p><p>
"For kicking me," he took the clothes that Matt had handed to him.. "I don't blame you, I would've done the same thing. In your situation. I mean...not being able to see, in situations like this..." Frank took this time to find the right words, "That's probably disorienting as shit. And I just grabbed you out of nowhere. So yeah, I don't blame you for reacting the way you did."
</p><p>
Matt had already turned back around to grab clothes for himself. "It's not always like this, I'm normally more on my game. But, yeah, I'll admit,' he faced Frank again with his own clothes in hand, "being forcefully yanked out of a tub while you're sick and incapacitated can be a little disorienting."
</p><p>
"Yeah, alright, smart-ass. I thought you were drowning," Frank smiled. He took a second to glance around Matt's room, "You get dressed in here, yeah? I'll uh...I'll go into the living room."
</p><p>
"Sounds like a plan," Matt said. They could both feel the strangeness in the air, how unfamiliar this dynamic felt between them. This wasn't normal, it wasn't expected. It was entirely new, a scenario neither of them could imagine, yet here they weren struggling to navigate it. The short bursts of playful banter followed by an awkward pause or shift in subject or tone, it was hard. Yet neither of the two ended it.
</p><p>
Well, admittedly, Matt had tried. But Frank came back. What was with the people in his life doing that? He always pushed them away yet his friends always came back to help him. And now the Punisher was included in that list people. Maybe he's not really a friend, but...an acquaintance of sorts. Is this what normal people did? How normal relationships worked? Matt was always envious of normal people. Not of their sight, but their normalcy. He only had 9 years of life ro be a normal kid, and even then that word felt foreign to him. He never really formed significant relationships to anyone growing up, his secret weighing him down and pushing everyone out. He tried, sure, but it ultimately grew too much to bear. But not for Foggy. Not for Karen. They came back, they tried to understand, tried to help. Was that normal? Matt could never say. What he did know that wasn't normal was him standing in his bedroom with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, face to face with the PUnisher. Yeah, definitely not normal.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>is this the end? who knows maybe there will be a sequel..or maybe not :))</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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